Pagan Morals
by Utility Calculus
Summary: Lancelot is acting very strangely.


Arthur leaned back against the trunk of the great tree, the snow, melting into the dark curls of his hair. It was quiet in the cold forest, peaceful away from the orders of Rome and God, and however much of his life he dedicated to that word; he found that the missions often brought pain and death. He sighed, resting his head back to gaze up at the sky. The peace was broken by crunching footsteps on the newly fallen snow. The young king turned and smiled at the disturber of the peace. The knight, though he didn't smile back, sat down beside him.

"Lancelot?"

"If you say one word about God I'll throw a rock at your head."

"What makes you think I was going to say anything about God?"

"You had that look on your face, the one where you aren't paying attention to anything that you can really see. Anything that I care about."

"Only if you care about it, it's worth caring about, right?"

"Perhaps." Then he smiled, his lips parting in a wry smirk that transformed his face from the scarred boy turned man too early to a man who come win the hearts of maidens fair and with loose morals.

"You a vain and arrogant boy who grew up in a pig sty."

"Well, at least I'm dragging your fine breeding down with me."

"Fine breeding," He guffawed, "Few in Rome would believe you."

"I believe me, so as long as you believe me, I have the trust of the two people I care about."

"Two? Me, because I can choose if you die or not and of course yourself. I told you, you're a selfish pig."

"More than likely, Arthur."

"Shouldn't your satirical wit be wasted on some girl you want to bed?"

"They seem to find it as annoying as you do but at least you saw the rest of me before slapping me and stalking off in a huff. Though that might be funny to see. Can you stalk?"

"Lancelot," The young man forgot what he was going to say when those bright brown eyes smiled at him so he settled with hitting his knight, sending the man sprawled into the snow.

"Arthur! What was that for?"

"While I refuse to stalk I will not be denied the honor of hitting you."

"And what of the other rights that come after the slapping and stalking have finished?"

"Will just insinuate yourself on anyone?"

"That's Tristan, I only go for the ones I know I can have fun with." Lancelot smiled again, tilting his head in a subtly suggestive manner. Arthur laugh but it faltered a little when his friend did not join him in his mirth.

"You're crazy, you're going to Hell for sure."

"If your Hell exists, I'd be going there long before this." Arthur's heart beat was fast and unsteady with a strange fear he was very unaccustomed to as Lancelot regained his seat that the king had pushed him from but this time the knight scooted closer, that insane grin still on his face.

"Lancelot, you're scaring me."

"That's not really anything new, but do not worry, I would do nothing to hurt you." Their faces were now so close that every word that was spoken by one warmed the face of the other. Lancelot leaned in, fingers grasping the side of his friend's neck, pressing forward into a ravenous demanding kiss, lips meeting, clashing. Arthur, not used to the strange, _pagan_, morals that his friend was exploiting was too shocked to pull away and by the time his senses returned it was too late for rational thought. Where Lancelot came from, boys flirted with girls but according to many strict rituals and scowling elders, it was easier for young men to relieve their desires together than find some girl. The knight saw nothing wrong with what he did, enjoying the warm comfort of the young man he trusted on the bitter night. Eventually he could feel Arthur getting over his shock, responding almost against his wishes to the severe administrations of the powerful man pressing his lips to his. Arthur loosened his mouth, relaxing, and Lancelot slipped his tongue between their lips tasting the strange taste of warm Roman days and cold British nights. Arthur suddenly pushed him away, breathing hard and Lancelot leaned back, grinning with a very satisfied manner indeed.

"What did you do that for?" Arthur's voice came out in barely forced calm, his eyes wide as they looked at the younger man lounging in the snow.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop playing stupid, you know very well what I'm talking about! Lancelot, you aren't supposed to do things like that!"

"Says who?"

"Rome, God, even Palagis said so."

"This, your God, seems to be at the root of all your problems. Let me ask you, is he against all fun?"

"Lancelot, you wouldn't understand the mightiness of God."

"You've tried to convert me time and time again. If your God had any of the power of which you speak I would have seen it but all I've ever seen is his 'Faithful' kill innocent people and enslave those that are left alive. And now they against something as innocent as this!"

"Innocent! How can you call what you just did innocent?"

"What makes it any worse than what Tristan or Bors do with the pretty village girls?"

"I don't know…I mean…it just seems wrong."

"To you?"

"Yes, you tricked me into whatever just happened. You didn't give me a chance to make the decision for myself. It's my free will to choose who I kiss."

"Whenever you talk about your free will it only reminds me of the fact that it was your people that stole mine from me." Lancelot replied with a stony gaze and all the anger melted into frustration which into turn became guilt.

"I'm sorry, Lancelot."

"I'm sorry too."

"But your God seriously is against me kissing you?" Arthur nodded, his eyes wide as he looked over at the smaller man, "It's just funny because where I come from, it's encouraged in our younger years so that the girls are not spoiled before marriage."

"World's an odd place."

The words trailed off with Arthur and Lancelot sitting staring at each other. Each was still but inside they were confused and a little nervous about making eye contact with the other. Lancelot eventually smiled again shy and a little embarrassed but it was all part of his charm and Arthur relaxed.

"It's fine. It wasn't as bad as I made it out to be."

"I know, I'm a better kisser than that."

"We are not starting up with this again; I thought that we already got in a fight over you acting like this."

"Sorry, but I'm friends with you and I trust you and its just part of where I'm from. I'm sorry that Rome thinks it's wrong but that's not new."

"It's all right Lancelot." He nodded.

He ached all over, his hands, arms and shoulders weak from the blows of the enemy but he was still moving, helping pick the wounded from the dead, the smoke from the fires stinging in his eyes. Suddenly he lifted his head. There was a horse, Lancelot's horse, and Guinevere bending down beside it. A sinking feeling made his heart wrench painfully in his chest. Arthur took off, his armor weighing down his limbs and he pulled his helmet off his head and fell to his knees beside the body on the ground.

_Oh no, oh God, this can't be. Not him, not now._

"Lancelot," He lifted his friend's head, his face completely limp in his hands. The Woad looked up at him, her eyes full of tears, "It wasn't supposed to be this, never this!" _It was supposed be me in his place; he was supposed to be going home. How did this all go so wrong? _Memories came flooding back to him in a torrential downpour that caught him mid heart beat and hurled his mind backwards in time. He wished they hadn't spent so much time together fighting. The snowy night under the tree came back to him and he felt a strange feeling rise again that hadn't shown in his heart since that night. He wanted to lean over and hug the man close and weep over him. This was his friend, his greatest friend, they had shared something together that night, something strange that had never been repeated but it had made between them a connection that could not be broken by something as foolish as death.

"Lancelot," Arthur felt the tears stinging behind his eyes. He was too late this time, this time he hadn't been able to do anything for him, "Rest in peace, my friend. I hope you find home." His whisper was barely heard, a prayer to the lost man, not for him, just as he would have wished.


End file.
